"What do you say to Robinson Crusoe?" said Bell.
"Or Paul and Virginia?" said Lily. "But I believe I'll have Pilgrim's Progress. I never can understand it, but I rather think that makes it nicer."
"I hate books I can't understand," said Bell. "I like a book to be clear as running water, so that the whole meaning may be seen at once."
"The quick seeing of the meaning must depend a little on the reader, must it not?" said Mrs. Dale.
"The reader mustn't be a fool, of course," said Bell.
"But then so many readers are fools," said Lily. "And yet they get something out of their reading. Mrs. Crump is always poring over the Revelations, and nearly knows them by heart. I don't think she could interpret a single image, but she has a hazy, misty idea of the truth. That's why she likes it,—because it's too beautiful to be understood; and that's why I like Pilgrim's Progress." After which Bell offered to get the book in question.
"No, not now," said Lily. "I'll go on with this, as you say it's so grand. The personages are always in their tantrums, and go on as though they were mad. Mamma, do you know where they're going for the honeymoon?"
"No, my dear."
"He used to talk to me about going to the lakes." And then there was another pause, during which Bell observed that her mother's face became clouded with anxiety. "But I won't think of it any more," continued Lily; "I will fix my mind to something." And then she got up from her chair. "I don't think it would have been so difficult if I had not been ill."
"Of course it would not, my darling."